The cabin of the plane goes silent, all eyes landing on my feet.
Mrs. Chapman gets up from her chair with a disapproving look. “Your highness, I laid out proper footwear for you. Did you not see it?”
“Yes, I saw them, thank you, but I’m not putting them on. I need some bandages for my ankles and some slippers, please.”
“Slippers?” she asks, blinking at me as if she’s never heard the word.
“Yes.” I walk past her and through the cabin where I find my father reading a newspaper in his white leather armchair.
“There you are, Arabella,” he looks at me over the rim of his reading glasses. “Now I recognize you again.”
Dr. Hildegard rushes over with his medical bag and ushers me into a seat. “Let’s have a peek at those sores.”
He kneels and opens his bag, digging around for supplies.
“Those are positively ghastly,” my father says. “Do they hurt very much?”
“Not really,” I say with a shrug.
One of the flight attendants appears with a tray of tea, gingerbread cookies, and fresh fruit. She sets it on the table between my chair and my father’s, and pours our tea while the doctor takes hold of my left foot and begins to bandage it. I glance down and feel a pang, remembering the last time someone looked after my ankle sores. Will, at the campfire on our first night together. The thought of it makes me want to cry and smile all at once.
“Eat up, Arabella,” Father says. “You’re positively gaunt.”
Picking up a cookie, I find it warm and soft. Oh, yes. I take a bite, feeling the sugar and spices dance across my tongue while I chew. My father picks one up too and watches me the entire time he eats it. Dr. Hildegard finishes up with my ankles and smiles up at me.
“Thank you,” I say. “That feels much better.”
“Will she be all right, Doctor?” my father asks.
“Oh yes. She’s still dehydrated and obviously tired. But once she’s eaten, replenished her liquids, and had a solid night’s sleep, she’ll be as good as new.”
“Thank you,” Father says. Raising his voice, he tells the staff he needs a few minutes alone with me.
Dr. Hildegard picks up his bag and hands me a plush blanket that his nurse was holding. “I’ll want to check those sores again tomorrow.”
“Of course.”
With that, he leaves, following everyone else as they scatter to various parts of the jet.
“I’m sure you’re quite angry with me,” I say, looking across the table at him. “And if you are, I don’t really give a damn.”
His eyes pop open, and he gasps.
“That’s right. Don’t bother lecturing me because I did what I did, and I’d gladly do it again,” I say, lifting my chin. “All of it. Even pushing that awful Sinclair woman into the mud.” I give him a devious smile.
He stares at me for a second, then starts to laugh. “I couldn’t believe my eyes. I had no idea you could be so … terrifying.”
“Me either, but it turns out I’m actually quite fierce.” I pick up my mug of tea and hold it to my lips, inhaling the scent of Earl Grey with clover honey.
Father leans in. “Whatever made you do that?”
“She had it coming,” I say, sipping my tea.
“No, I mean running away. Disappearing into the jungle like that,” he says. “The entire kingdom has been in a complete uproar since you left. It’s been absolute chaos. The media has been going mad suggesting you were kidnapped or in rehab or the hospital or dead. They even started harassing Bellford, if you can believe it. Filming him while he’s out getting groceries and hassling him for a comment.”
“Oh, dear,” I say, feeling my earlier resolve start to wane. “I certainly didn’t mean for any of that to happen.”
“Come on, you must have known you were putting us all in a terrible position,” he says, keeping his voice calm. “And for what? A reality television show, of all things.”
“It’s not a reality show. It’s a nature documentary-slash-survival show?”
He sits back in his chair and stares, waiting for a proper answer.
I rest my head on my seatback and sigh. “I’ve spent my entire life being nothing more than a memory of someone I never knew. I needed to figure out who I am and what I’m capable of, instead of always letting other people decide for me.”
“Is this about the red dress?” he asks, squinting his eyes. “Arthur’s been adamant that if I’d have just okayed the stupid dress, none of this would have happened.”
“No, of course not,” I say, shaking my head. “Well, yes, I suppose in a way. It’s not just about the dress, though. It’s about the Equal Everywhere campaign and being pushed into finding a husband I don’t want, and … and never having any control over my life. I’m an adult and yet, I never make a single decision for myself.”
“I see,” he says, nodding slowly.
“I didn’t intend to cause an uproar,” I say. “But, surely you, of all people, must understand why I needed to escape. You spent years running away.”
He gives me a sad smile. “That I did. Which is why I was so scared when I read your letter. I was worried you were going to turn into me. For so long, I had this irresistible need to get away from this life, and all the restrictions that come with it.”
“Exactly!” I say, excited to find a kindred spirit in the one man I never would have expected. “I felt like I was suffocating. And then, it was mother’s fiftieth birthday, and all that malarkey started again about how I’m her spitting image, and I just couldn’t do another day of it.” Tears fill my eyes. Tears of exhaustion and regret and guilt and anger. I wipe them away before they can fall. “I’ve spent my entire life being terrified that I’m just like her—weak.”
Reaching out, he places his big hand over mine. I stare down at the tufts of blond hair poking out of his reddish skin. “Arabella, my sweet girl, you are nothing like your mother in spirit. Looks, yes, but it ends there. For one thing, where she was impulsive, you are thoughtful. Where you are forgiving, she was hard-hearted. And I don’t mean to disparage her. I know I was a lousy husband, and she had reason to hate me, but the truth is, she was never going to love me, no matter what I did.”
Tilting my head, I say, “I don’t understand.”
“She wasn’t exactly excited about marrying the future king. She’d already met the man of her dreams, and I was not him.”
“Oh,” I say, my heart breaking as I picture the young man my father once was.
“I was stupid. I thought I could make her love me, but there was no room in her heart for anyone else.”
“So, she fulfilled her royal duties, then …”
Nodding, my father says, “Very soon after you were born, she had found out he was getting married. He had moved on just at the moment when she thought she could petition my parents for a divorce and go back to the life she always wanted.”
Tears roll freely down my cheeks now, and I don’t try to stop them. “So, she was going to abandon us and marry him?”
My father squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry. I’ve upset you when you’re meant to be resting.”
“No, it’s okay,” I whisper. “It’s good for me to know the truth. It helps me understand why you could never seem to look at me. And why you kept leaving all the time.”
“Don’t forgive me for that, my lamb. I certainly don’t deserve it.” He sniffs and his eyes fill with tears. “I was so selfish, trying to escape my own pain, instead of trying to heal yours and Arthur’s.” Shaking his head, he says. “I’ll never forgive myself.”
“All this time, I thought you hated me because you hated her.”
“No,” he whispers. “It’s because no matter how hard I wished I didn’t, I could love no one but her.”
Getting up, he steps around the table, crouches down, and hugs me. I do the same and we stay like this while I cry into his shirt. When I’m finished, he pulls back gently, but stays near. Cupping my cheek with his hand, he
says, “I’ve been so scared since you left. I spent the entire time thinking of all the things I wished I had said and done to show you what you mean to me.”
“You’ve really been so much better the last couple of years.”
“I’m trying, but I don’t think anything can make up for me not being there for you when you were little.”
“I forgive you, Dad,” I say.
His face crinkles up and his eyes overflow with tears. “I love you so much, Arabella. Enough to fill the entire world.”
“I forgive you, and I love you, too.”
“Thank you. Please don’t feel like you need to run away from me. I’ll do anything to make you happy, okay? If you want to have your own TV show, I’ll make that happen.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head and laughing. “It wasn’t about being on the telly. The fact that it was being filmed was a deterrent, actually. I was looking for freedom and adventure.”
“Christ, we really are in trouble then, because it turns out, you’re exactly like your old man.”
We both laugh and hug again.
After we pull back, he says, “When I saw you come over that hill, absolutely filthy with mud, and pulling that young man behind you …” His shoulders start to shake with laughter. “I’ve never seen anything like it in all my days. You were a force to be reckoned with.”
“Was I a little bit scary?” I ask with a grin.
“Terrifying. You were like … that blond woman in that post-apocalyptic movie with all the cars and that crazy Max fellow.”
“Furiosa from Mad Max: Fury Road?” I ask, puffing up with pride.
“That’s the one!” He smiles. “Furiosa. I might call you that from now on.”
“I’d like that.”
“Then, I shall,” he says, getting up and sitting back in his seat. “You should rest. We have a whole lifetime to find a way to make things work.”
I pull the blanket onto my lap and lean my pillow on the window next to me. “What are you going to do?”
“Watch you sleep,” he says. “And think of ways to make sure you have all the freedom you need while simultaneously keeping you close to me.”
32
Whiny Wills and the People Who Love to Team Up on Them
Will - One Month Later
Paradise Bay, Santa Valentina Island
“So, when are you going to tell me what really happened out there?” Harrison asks.
It’s his day off and I’m sitting on a lounge chair under an umbrella next to the kiddie pool. He and Clara are playing in the water together while I spend another afternoon wishing I could rip off this cast and dive into the ocean.
It’s been four long weeks since my surgery and each day feels like an endless abyss of boredom, frustration, and failure. My surgeon figured me for the type who couldn’t be trusted with a boot alone, so she casted my leg, then put a boot on it to keep me from doing any damage. She’s not wrong. I totally would have ditched it by now if I could have. Just for a few minutes to have a quick swim. Or maybe do a little scuba diving. But nothing that would hurt my ankle. Okay, I definitely would have gone surfing yesterday, but only because the waves were perfect.
Instead, I sit around with my leg up, waiting for the minutes to tick by. I’ve taken to keeping a chopstick on me at all times so I can temporarily relieve the itching while I deflect questions about my non-existent love life. “I already told you. We were hiking in the dark, and I was going too fast, so I fell into the ravine like a total dumbass.”
“Language,” Harrison says, giving me a stern look from under his eyebrows.
“She’s not even two,” I answer, pointing to Clara who is currently dressed in a floppy swim hat and a UV-protection long-sleeved swimsuit with pants. She’s filling a plastic watering jug with water, then pouring it over her dad’s outstretched legs, and giggling like crazy. I wish she would come water my legs. I’m dying here.
“Yeah, well, she’s absorbing new words like a sponge. Yesterday, Libby said …” Harrison cups his hands over her ears. “‘Screw it.’” He lets go and continues. “And when we put her to bed, we could hear her repeating it over and over in her crib last night.”
I chuckle a little and smile at my niece. “You’re a tiny badass.”
“Seriously, man?” he asks.
“Sorry, last one, I promise,” I say, taking the chopstick out of the pocket of my cargo shorts and digging into my cast. Aahhh, that’s the stuff.
Harrison watches me for a second, looking slightly disgusted. “Something happened out there. I’ve never seen you this grumpy before.”
“Broken ankle, concussion, no bonus.” That one really feels like a kick to the junk because I got a text from Stew that Oprah’s listing her house so he can’t hold on to Matilda any longer. I haven’t told Harrison. There’s no sense in breaking his heart when he never knew we came so close to getting her back. “All reasons for me to be in a crap mood.”
He shakes his head and purses his lips. “Nope. That’s not it. This is a woman thing.”
Rolling my eyes, I say, “It’s not a woman thing. When have I ever let a woman get to me like this? Never. That’s when.”
“Until now. But I can tell. You love her.”
I growl a little and pick up my beer, gulping back the rest of the bottle. “I do not love her.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I really don’t,” I say firmly. “And even if I did, there would be no way to make anything work between us, so it’s better if we leave things how they are.”
“Which is?”
“Which is nothing. We spent a few days in the jungle together filming a TV show. End of story.”
“Hey, you two goofballs,” Emma says, sauntering up to us, dressed in a loose skirt and tank top. She’s got that ‘just got back from my luxurious, super long honeymoon-two days ago’ look about her as she melts into the chair next to mine. She waves and opens her mouth wide at Clara. “Hi, baby! How’s my favourite girl?”
Clara grins at her and says, “Me do it!” before dumping more water on her dad.
“You sure do!” Emma answers. “She’s so smart. Listen to her talking in sentences already. She’s definitely a genius.”
“She gets that from her mom,” I say.
They both shrug and nod. “Most likely, yeah,” my brother admits.
Emma gives Harrison a serious look. “So, did he tell you yet?”
“Tell him what?” I ask, already annoyed even though I don’t know what they’re talking about.
She turns to me. “Tell him what really happened in that jungle and why you’ve been such a whiny brat since you got back?”
“Oh for …” I start, then, remembering my niece, I blow out a long puff of air.
Emma grins at me. “You love her.”
“He loves who?” Rosy asks from behind us. She steps under the shade of my umbrella, fanning herself with a clipboard. Turning to Clara, she says, “Hi Clara Bear, how’s my sweet girl?”
“Me do!” Clara yells, throwing her hands in the air and crouching.
“Yay! You do!” Rosy yells, before giving Emma a pointed look. “I hope you didn’t waste your honeymoon, because I want another one of these as soon as possible.”
Emma rolls her eyes. “Then bug Harrison for a follow-up baby.”
“Hey, what are you doing outside?” I ask Rosy. She hates being outdoors with a passion. In fact, if you go to her house for a barbecue, you’ll have to help carry her super-powerful air conditioner into the yard so she can have ‘nice, cool indoor air’ while she eats.
“I came to check on my Cuddle Bear,” she says, smiling down at me. “Now, who is it that you love? It’s that beautiful princess, isn’t it? There’s no way you could’ve spent all that time together without falling for her.”
Harrison grins at me but talks to Rosy. “He was just about to admit it.”
Rosy squeezes herself onto my lounge chair, next to my leg. “Oh, good! I didn’t miss i
t then!”
Glaring at Harrison, I say, “Nope. Not admitting anything. Not talking. What happens in the jungle, stays in the jungle.”
“So something did happen!” Emma says.
“It happened all right,” Rosy answers. “Look at his pouty little face. It’s exactly like when he’d get hurt as a boy. He could never admit it. Always had to be the toughest kid in the room.”
I pull my head away from her. “I’m not going to get tricked into admitting I love her. I’m not an idiot.”
“He loves her. He’s just scared,” Emma says.
Rosy nods. “I don’t blame him. It would be hard to make it work. After all, they couldn’t be from more different worlds.”
“True,” Emma says, looking at Rosy. “It would be almost impossible. Will would suffocate in her world, and she’s so busy with all her charity work and her royal obligations. There’s no way she could just quit.”
“I don’t know. Harry and Meghan did it,” Rosy tells Emma.
“But, neither of them is a total coward, unlike Will,” Harrison adds.
“I’m not … you know, whatever. You guys go ahead and talk. I really couldn’t care less.”
“That’s because he loves her,” Emma whispers.
“So much it terrifies him,” Rosy adds.
“Maybe he’s not scared,” Harrison says, rubbing his chin. “Maybe, he’s just waiting for his ankle to heal so he can run to her and carry her off into the sunset.”
“Ahh, that’s so sweet,” Rosy says. “Is that what you’re planning, Cuddle Bear?”
“No, I’m not …” I shake my head, exasperation flooding my veins. “I don’t have any plans for any grand romantic gestures or anything. I am not the man she needs. She needs someone who could survive in her world—someone well-read who … likes being inside all the time at meetings and lunches and who would be happy to attend an endless list of boring functions. I couldn’t even stand being at Emma’s awful wedding. No offense, Emma.”
Royally Crushed: A Crazy Royal Love, Book 1 Page 21